


There's Absolutely Nothing Romantic About This Getaway

by vorkosigan



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fandom Stocking 2017, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Former Friends With Benefits, Humor, Idiots Undercover, Idiots in Love, M/M, Post-Canon, Romance, Secret Missions, Steve Retaliates, Tony is insufferable, fake relationship turned real
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-02-26 10:51:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13234134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vorkosigan/pseuds/vorkosigan
Summary: Still at odds with each other, Steve and Tony go on a secret mission. The pretend relationship is not a part of it, really; it starts off as a stupid joke, but it becomes progressively more difficult to wriggle out of it.





	There's Absolutely Nothing Romantic About This Getaway

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sheron](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheron/gifts).



> I tagged this post-canon. Steve and Tony are quarreling, but whether it's CW issues or something else - I don't know. I didn't really get into it. Nothing is discussed. Everything is lighthearted. Really, don't take this fic too seriously. I kept imagining it as an old romantic comedy in black and white.

"Secret _Avengers_?" That's the first thing Tony says. "You're telling me you've been working with Fury all this time? On the Q.T.? And _that's_ the name you guys came up with?"

 

"I don't think we have time for this," Steve says matter-of-factly. He doesn't sound particularly hurried, though.

 

The airport around them is bustling with activity, and the two of them are just two dudes in generic clothing. Steve is wearing a beanie and a pair of ridiculously hipstery glasses that – Tony has to admit – are a good match for his new beard. He looks like no one in particular, but better built.

 

"No, we don't," Tony says, and they start walking, easily falling into step. Old habits die hard. "The sooner we're done with each other, the better."

 

He himself made an honest effort with his disguise. Then he asked Rhodey what he thought about it.

 

_"You look exactly same as always," Rhodey said._

_"But it's Walmart jeans," Tony protested._

_"It's a pair of jeans."_

_"Aw, come on, I paid $9 for them; it shows. No one will believe it's really me in Walmart jeans."_

_Rhodey just shook his head. "Shave," he ordered for the third time. Tony did, leaving just the mustache. The goatee will grow back, but it still broke Tony's heart to do so._

 

And now Steve is staring at Tony's smooth face weirdly, and Tony has an irresistible urge to say something caustic.

 

"So now you, what, work undercover? _You_ , Rogers?"

 

Tony still doesn't know how Fury talked him into this. _I need your ballistics expertise, Stark. Just grit your teeth and do it. I'll owe you one._ And then, after he already agreed, the info was slyly slipped in: he'll be working with Steve Rogers. How hilarious.

 

"Yes, so what?" Steve responds.

 

"Oh, nothing," Tony says. "You're a natural born spy. Known for your discretion and circumspection."

 

Steve sighs in exasperation. "I actually went through SHIELD training, back when."

 

"Yeah, yeah, it does wonders for your CV." This is going to be a _long_ weekend. Tony keeps telling himself he would not say a single word that isn't necessary or mission-related. A pity he sucks so badly at keeping promises to himself.

 

"Trust me, I'm no happier than you are to be here." Steve sounds annoyed. Good. Misery loves company.

 

"Yeah, I hear you, believe me" Tony mutters.

 

Which is when Steve grabs him around the waste and practically turns him around. "Quickly," he hisses. "Kiss me."

 

Tony struggles to get away for a moment, but then he spots a group of men in suspiciously unsuspicious clothing (one guy has a small, bright-purple suitcase), stalking through the airport, anything but inconspicuous. The menace etched into their faces screams _goons_. One of them manages to make even a Hawaiian shirt look threatening.

 

Tony's head snaps back to look at Steve, and then the arm around his waist steadies him, and a hand sneaks up, firmly but gently, to cradle the back of his head. Steve's lips on his own are warm and firm, familiar, and if this had happened a few years back, it would have felt pretty awesome, actually. Even now, despite everything, it's a little nice. Tony hadn't kissed anyone since the thing with Pepper blew into his face the final time. He stares at Steve, wide-eyed. Steve's own eyes are closed for a second, but then he seemingly remembers what they are supposed to be doing and why; they snap open and start darting around, although he's still not taking his lips away from Tony's. He's even lightly massaging his scalp, which is, Tony thinks, really not required at this time. _Feels fine, though_ , his thoughts betray him.

 

Steve lets go of him – _finally_ , Tony tells himself firmly.

 

"What the fuck was that, Rogers?"

 

"No one looks twice at couples." Steve tries to look unapologetic, but kind of fails. "I learned that trick from Nat," he adds, a slight flush blooming in his cheeks.

 

"You kissed _Natasha_?" Tony says. "Oh, wow. I'm jealous."

 

"Of whom?" Steve shoots back, although he's still blushing.

 

And then Tony remembers he's supposed to stay reserved, so he pulls back, wipes the smirk off his face. "We should go," he mutters. But then, with an urge for petty vengeance – because he doesn't want Steve's touch to feel this good – he narrows his eyes and grabs Steve's hand in a steely hold. "Come on, _lover._ " Steve hesitates for a moment, just standing there, but it's either make a scene or follow Tony, still holding his hand.

 

"This is completely unnecessary, Tony," he says seriously, but, with some reluctance, goes with the option number two. Holding his hand and smirking like a fiend, Tony practically skips through the airport. He imagines he can hear Steve simmering in the background.

 

***

 

The more uncomfortable Steve gets, the more Tony enjoys goading him. _That's at least something to be got from this horrible trip_ , he tells himself.

 

First, Tony raises hell about the boarding passes and the fact that he and Steve are not seated together, due to some late rearrangement.

 

"I will not be separated from my boyfriend!" Tony insists loudly. (Steve flinches.) "This is preposterous. We reserved tickets months in advance. I insist you find a way to seat us together!"

 

"You call this not attracting notice?" Steve hisses at him reproachfully as soon as they are done and away (as soon as Tony has gotten his way, that is).

 

Tony just shrugs. "Oh please. Everyone always complains about seats. You know what would have been actually conspicuous? _Not_ complaining."

 

Flying economy class is a deeply scandalous experience in itself. The tiny sandwiches are apparently produced from cardboard and glue, but at least there are drinks. Tony decides to make things more fun (for himself) by ordering for Steve before the man manages to open his mouth. "Red wine for me – something romantic, please – and a coffee and a glass of apple juice for the stunner over here." He waves an unconcerned hand in Steve's direction, then he winks at the flight attendant, and in stage whisper he adds: "Lover is lightweight, you see."

 

Steve just keeps frowning at Tony when he thinks no one's looking. Discontentedly, he sips at his juice, as if it were a big deal. (In all the years Tony's known him, the only thing Steve ever ordered at this time of day was coffee and apple juice. It's not as if he'd have picked anything else _now._ )

 

Tony pretends he's dozing off, head on Steve's shoulder. He fervently hopes he's making him profoundly uncomfortable.

 

***

 

It slowly stops being fun, tormenting Steve. In the cab from the airport, they both sit in the back, but as far from each other as humanly possibly. This is by mutual tacit agreement. For the first time in hours, Tony's hands aren't on Steve for one annoying reason or another, and it's suddenly weird.

 

And he keeps thinking about that kiss at the airport. And their other kisses, long time ago now.

 

The realization slams into him like a sack of bricks: he's been using every excuse to keep touching Steve. And after that it's impossible for his mind not to stray to those few times they'd fooled around in the past. And, all right, that one weekend in Vermont, which was pretty amazing, but let's not go there. It had all been strictly no-strings-attached, strictly friends-with-benefits thing. The sex had been good, and it served its purpose, back then – to have some fun and get his mind off the fact he was broken up with Pepper _again_.

 

But that was a long time ago, and everything is changed, and he really shouldn't be thinking about this.

 

Still, goading Steve doesn't seem like such a great idea any longer. His own actions make Tony feel a bit queasy, even, now that he makes himself think about t. He's done with this farce, he's going to do better. He's going to be a normal human being for once, and stop pushing, and hope this weekend is over fast. Maybe the mission turns out interesting, in the end. Or maybe someone kindly shoots him in the head and puts a stop to all this.

 

Dammit, he _has_ to quit thinking about how gentle and nice that kiss was, despite everything.

 

***

 

As they enter the quaint, cheep little hotel, Tony inches closer to Steve, very careful not to touch him.

 

"Steve?"

 

"Hm?" Steve frowns at him, exasperated in advance, but after today, it's really Tony's fault.

 

"Er," Tony says, "I know I'm a bit too much. No, scratch that. I was being an ass. I need to apologize."

 

He squeezes the words out; they cost him a lot. That's why it's even more irritating when Steve cuts in.

 

"Oh, don't worry about it, _darling_. I know you're tired. _And_ hungry." His voice is unnecessarily loud, and when his arm snakes around Tony's waist, pulling him in, Tony thinks he's getting his due payback for today. Then Steve's hand finds its way into the back pocket of Tony's jeans and _stays_ there.

 

It sends a sudden thrill through Tony, and there would be nothing wrong with it, only, a) he's not going there with Steve, honestly, it would be a stupid thing to do on top of everything, and b) it's not _real_ , it's just Steve getting back at him for today. It's not a real come-on. Not that Tony would want it to be. Definitely not.

 

He glares daggers at Steve; elbows him in the side, as inconspicuously as he can, because it wouldn't do to make a scene now, not in the super full hotel lobby. Steve _does_ remove his hand, then, but it settles around Tony's waist instead. The gesture seems so natural and effortless on Steve's part that the first thing Tony thinks is _it's like no time has passed at all_ , and his _second,_ more grounded thought is _well, maybe he's not such a crap spy, after all._

 

It's only belatedly that he realizes Steve is sort of covertly signaling with his eyes. Tony follows his gaze and spots a few people from the plane in the crowd. Without a doubt, none of them have forgotten Tony's gleeful and memorable performances of the day. Oh, goody.

 

It makes sense, really. This is the most affordable semi-decent hotel around, and the secret new SHIELD is apparently even cheaper than the old one. There is also the fact that this place is closest to the convention venue. And the convention itself is primarily aimed at middle-aged, unsuccessful dentists who are looking to learn how to rekindle their business. Of course the attendants would pick the inexpensive nearby hotel to stay in.

 

And of _course_ the majority would arrive now, all at the same time, and form a very polite line in front of the reception desk. Someone is looking at them strangely. Tony thinks he recognizes one of the goons from the airport as the two of them join the line. The experience is absolutely appalling, and doubtlessly the rooms are going to be no better.

 

On the up side (or should that be down side?), Steve's arm is still firmly around him.

 

Since people have definitely noticed them, continuing with the game looks like the only way to go. Sighing inwardly, Tony smiles and snuggles closer to Steve. And just because he's aware that, for him, it's not just a game – well, not exactly, not with being this hyperaware of Steve's solid torso right next to him – Tony is beginning to feel self-conscious and ridiculous. With him, that never ends well. He's pretty sure there's a wave of hysterical babbling coming on, so he strikes a preemptive conversation with a guy in front of him, the one wearing a super-dentist T-shirt. With a Superman 'S' on the back.

 

Very quickly, the convo turns from _here for the convention, eh?_ to _so, what do you think of uses of 3D printing in dentistry_ , because Tony is a nerd and of course he's read up on the subject last night. A few times during the conversation, Tony thinks Steve's grip on his waist tightens, but it makes no sense to him.

 

When it's finally their turn to check-in, they produce their IDs. With that beard and those glasses, Steve can actually – sort of – pass for a Stephán, but Tony is honestly going to murder Fury on account of his own ID. Stephán Deleon and Tino Stirling. Dentists extraordinaire. _Christ._

 

It turns out they are sharing a room, even though posing as a couple _definitely_ wasn't in the briefing Fury gave Tony. But thankfully, they got separate beds. _Well, small mercies_ , Tony thinks, absolutely refusing to be disappointed because that would be ridiculous.

 

The woman standing behind them in line giggles. She was at the airport. She was on the plane. She is _clearly_ expecting another show, this time re. the beds.

 

Tony meets Steve's eyes, apologizing silently in advance. More pretending. He should have thought better about this beforehand, but needling Steve had seemed like such fun at the time.

 

"What do you think, cuddlecakes?" Tony asks with forced cheer. At that word, Steve's eyebrow twitches in an extremely ironic manner, but no one who doesn't know him would notice, of course. "Can we live with separate beds for two nights?"

 

Tony expects him to say _yes, of course, let's not bother these nice people any longer_ and be done with it, but instead, Steve inclines his head in thought. "Well, this is not what I expected. At _all_ ," he says with a frown and a barely-there mischievous spark in his eyes. "Let me think about it."

 

Tony tries to stare him down. This produces no results whatsoever.

 

The receptionists clasps her hands together, and for a moment Tony thinks she's irritated at the delay, but her beaming face begs to differ. "You two are so _pretty_ together," she coos before Steve can finally answer _the one simple question_. "Aren't they _pretty_?" she asks the room at large, and this is getting very uncomfortable, very fast. All the eyes are plastered on them, just the way it's definitely not supposed to happen on a secret mission. _No one looks at couples twice, my ass._ Tony feels like a puppy on display in a pet shop window. Not that he's not used to it, but this is not the time to put on a brilliant smile and start oozing confidence, which is his usual shtick. _A humble, unsuccessful dentist_ , he reminds himself.

 

"They _are_ handsome," the woman behind them in line agrees, to make the matters even worse. "Especially the tall one."

 

At this injustice, Tony bristles and glares at Steve. _It must be because of the goatee!_ His blond eyelashes lowered over his eyes, his eyebrows dancing for a moment, Steve shoots him a covert amused look. That's just too much.

 

"No, you know what, there must be a mistake. We certainly didn't want separate beds," Tony blurts, because he's irritated. "I want a super king size bed, if you have one." _And a jacuzzi_ , he stops himself from adding at the last moment. "And please don't bother us in the morning."

 

He shoots a defiant look at Steve, but Steve is just smiling at him indulgently. And then, the extremely annoying person that he is, his blond companion says: "Well, we _could_ splurge a bit, actually. You don't happen to have one of those honeymoon suites available, maybe? I know it's last minute and all, but I thought we'd ask."

 

Tony gapes at him, but Steve's hand finds its merry way right into Tony's back pocket _again_ , and to make things even worse, the man squeezes a bit, in warning. Jolted back to his senses, Tony quits gaping and plays along. He produces a silly, fond smile from somewhere, shooting murderous thoughts at Steve all the while. "Such a _good idea_ , snuggle bug," he says sweetly.

 

"Isn't it just, _my sweetest_ ," Steve shoots right back, and what he doesn't have in cute nickname invention department, he sure makes up with sugary voice and big heart eyes directed at Tony. Suddenly, Tony is extremely happy Steve had ignored him earlier in the day. Had this game gone on for longer than a few minutes, it could have slipped out of hand _so_ easily, and dammit, Steve's hand is _still on Tony's butt_.

 

"Oh, I'm _so_ sorry, dear," the receptionist says regretfully. "We do have one, and no one ever wants it – it's a bit pricey, you see – but it _just_ got booked for tonight. It's really never this busy around here," she adds. "We're fully booked for the weekend, but... if something appropriate clears up, you'll be the _first_ to know." She gives them another adoring smile. Tony wonders if she's on crack. She _might_ be on crack.

 

They escape towards the elevator, and as soon as they are out of the lobby, Tony hisses: _"Kindly get your hand off my ass."_

 

***

 

"What the hell _was_ that?" Tony bursts out as soon as they are in the room and the door is locked.

 

Steve looks at him serenely. "You were having such fun with the pretend relationship thing today, I thought I'd help."

 

"Aw come on. I _apologized_ for that."

 

"No. You said you _needed_ to."

 

Tony slumps on the bed. "Okay, you've proved your point. I'm sorry. Even if I hadn't been earlier, I'd be _now_. Because you've _made_ me sorry," he adds reproachfully. "Also, those people down there are absolutely unbearable, and you just had to egg them on did you."

 

Steve shrugs, utterly unapologetic, which is okay, since Tony did no better. "I actually thought they were very nice. Didn't you? We should invite the receptionist and your new dentist friend for drinks later."

 

" _Steve_ ," Tony groans, because he's pretty sure the man would do it, just to spite him.

 

"That's Stephán," Steve says, "actually."

 

Tony wants to strangle Steve. He also wants to push him against the wall and kiss him silly, because he's missed this – the missions, the stupid bickering, everything. Having him so close.

 

"Want to go over the mission details now?" he asks instead. Anything else would be too crazy.

 

***

 

The mission gets more interesting after they identify their mark at the insanely boring convention and sneak after him towards the back rooms of the venue. Who makes weapon deals at a third rate dentist convention anyway? They do manage to plant bugs and listen in on the bargaining, and in the end Tony hacks into the phone of one of the participants and manages to steal a good deal of the blueprints, easily separating the real ones from red herrings, which is why Fury wanted him on the job in the first place.

 

But of course nothing can go smoothly. They get discovered and the ensuing shooting is quite an unwelcome addition to the evening. Tony is wearing a custom made bulletproof vest of his own design, so he's okay. What Steve has on under his civvies, however, is a  commercial brand piece of body armor. At finding out about this, paralyzing fear cuts right through Tony, leaving him cold; because, when push comes to shove, it's not a brand he'd trust with Steve's life.

 

With ridiculously little success, he tugs at Steve's arm, trying to get him to a safer position, trying to interpose himself between Steve and the bullets. "Get behind me," Tony hisses in frustration.

 

Steve looks at him in utter disbelief. Still, before he has time to retort, something in his face changes. Roughly, he pushes Tony to the ground, throwing himself on top of him. Which, _interesting_ , something in Tony thinks for a sec. But then the window shatters, and it's obviously a sniper, and as sweet as all this is supposed to be, Tony doesn't want Steve taking a bullet for him, and _definitely_ not while wearing that crap vest.

 

Tony is furious with Steve's face, so very, very close to his own, furious with Steve's impossibly blue eyes that... (there he goes, getting carried away again)

 

"You fucking idiot, my vest is better than..." Tony starts to snap.

 

"It's the back of your _head_ that isn't," Steve retorts, and it's true – it's unprotected, and Tony's head _had_ been right in front of that damn window. Which means Steve saved his life. Which is _hot_.

 

***

 

The gunshots are going to bring the local police very soon, of course, so the bad guys clear out promptly, and so do Tony and Steve. In the semi-dark and the confusion, probably no one recognizes them as the Deleon&Stirling stunning dentist duo, but it's stupid to risk it.

 

"We're checking into a different hotel," Steve decides, once they are clear, and Tony insists they pick at least a moderately nice one this time.

 

When they finally get there, it's past midnight, and, impossibly, the woman behind the reception desk is the _same_ one from the old hotel, just fancier dressed. She must be moonlighting here.

 

Before they can turn around and run, she's already waving at them excitedly. There is a definite recognition in her eyes. And, instead of running away like a normal person, Steve manages to blush and walks over to say hi. Because that's the polite thing to do. Of _course._

 

"Oh, did you two lovebirds decide to come here because you saw online that the honeymoon suite was available?" she chirps. "It's _so_ much bigger than the one at the _Lawrence_ _Inn_ anyway. It even has a jacuzzi," she adds in a loud, suggestive whisper, and when had it become okay to insinuate this or that about people's private lives? It's highly unprofessional.

 

But Tony's back hurts from that fall to the floor, no matter how interesting it was with Steve suddenly on top of him and all that. And, while Steve could probably go back and do it all over again, Tony himself is _bone_ tired, and jacuzzi sounds like a wet dream, in more ways than one, even if he's alone in it, which would – let's face it – definitely be the case tonight.

 

"We'll take it," Tony blurts out before Steve can say anything.

 

Steve arches an eyebrow at him. "Can't wait to get into the jacuzzi," he murmurs, deadpan.

 

The receptionist squees with delight. "You two are _so romantic_! Oh my god, I have to see you kiss! _Please._ "

 

It's getting undeniably obnoxious. Tony can see even Steve is getting annoyed at the woman. "Oh," Tony says placatingly, planning a decent excuse, but an unruly impulse stirs him in another direction, and the words that actually escape his mouth are: "You see, Hottie McNaughty here is a real crabapple. He dislikes public displays of affection." He even manages to sound whiny on top of everything. Just like he imagines a Tino Stirling would. Really, sometimes he surprises even himself.

 

The glance he shoots at Steve can be interpreted as nothing but a challenge.

 

Steve returns a level look. Then, never changing his expression, he smacks Tony soundly on the ass – so soundly that Tony jumps a little and yelps in protest. He shouldn't be surprised, though – he knew he was going to regret _Hottie McNaughty_ as soon as he said it.

 

"You know, _Tino_ , I'm getting over my dislikes pretty fast," Steve says, and his voice is low and husky and Tony knows Steve is just poking fun at him, but it still sends a shiver through him. And really, what's with all the handsiness today?

 

Still, Steve is upping the stakes, and Tony was never a one to fold. He steps _very_ close to Steve and grabs him by the waist. "Is that so, _stud muffin_?"

 

But he hasn't considered this, really, because Steve grabs him right back, and pulls him even closer, so that they are pressed tightly against each other, chest to chest, glaring into each other's eyes, and Tony's stomach is flipping and turning with wild excitement.

 

"Yes, that's so, _lamb_ ," Steve murmurs at him in that same tone of voice, damn him. Tony wants to melt on the spot. He barely manages a half-sarcastic thought of _Lamb? Really?_ But it doesn't quite work.

 

Steve's face is only inches from his own, and Tony's head is reeling. Tony swallows, shoots back: "Gum drop."

 

"Dove." Steve's lips are even closer now, and Tony can't stop staring.

 

Tony narrows his eyes. "Lover Pooh."

 

" _Dear heart._ "

 

The thrill that courses through Tony isn't even all about sex, and that's probably the worst part. It's something in his heart instead that throbs and stirs and grows warm all the way through, at those two words. And, true, Steve was a gentle lover, those few times they had fun together – all soft kisses and tender touches, always remembering what Tony liked; the guy would also whisper endearments now and then, but not like this, not quite – never an equivalent of _dear heart_ , at any rate _._ Just for a moment Tony wants to stop the time, to dream, to pretend it's all real, that this is what they are to each other.

 

And then Steve's mouth is on his own, and without a second's thought, Tony parts his lips, and suddenly he tastes Steve's tongue, hungry and hot, and the kiss vibrates with wanting, and it feels _sincere_.

 

So sincere, in fact, that Tony absolutely forgets where they are and why they are doing what they are doing. When they break apart, he is out of breath, and he spots the receptionist staring at them, her mouth hanging half-open.

 

They grab the key card and escape towards the stairs. _Again._

 

***

 

The atmosphere in the elevator is all electricity and live wires, but they are not looking at each other. Neither of them is saying anything. It just... sizzles.

 

Steve clears his throat.

 

Out of a corner of his eye, Tony glances towards the wall mirror, catches a glimpse of a blond eyelash and a blushy cheek. Quickly looks away. His heart is like a small animal that _really_ wants out.

 

"So," Steve says, in a surprisingly calm voice, and it's really not fair that he can do that. "You seemed pretty into it, back there." And what's even less fair is putting all this on Tony, because Steve wasn't much better himself, either.

 

Needlessly, Tony glances down. His erection is very obvious in his jeans. _Betrayed by Own Dick: A Life Story._ Yep. That's going to be the title of his second memoir. Fucking Walmart! It wouldn't be that noticeable if the cut of the jeans was better!

 

He tries for a casual tone. "Yeah, well. You're good looking. I'm into hot people. You knew that." With all he's been considering and remembering today, with all the gratuitous touching, and the sheer terror he felt when he thought Steve was going to get hurt, and, in the end, with the way the _dear heart_ incident warmed him through – with all that, his words are such a lie he almost expects to be struck down by lightning. Or at least for the lights in the elevator to short out. _Something._

 

Steve's voice goes all quiet and earnest, then, in that way he has when something is important to him. "Is it just that, Tony?", he asks, and Tony wants to tell him to fuck off and Tony wants to kiss both his palms and cradle his head in his own lap. In a word, he concludes, he's going crazy.

 

Steve just _had_ to go and ask the hard question, did he? Tony presses the stop button. He looks into the mirror, and meets the serious and unblinking eyes of Steve's reflection. He sighs.

 

"It's not just that," he admits, still not turning around. And then, more forcefully: "Dammit, Steve, you _know_ it's not." Because it _must_ be obvious, _anyone_ would see it.

 

Steve's reflection tries to hold back that smile of his, but it escapes and spreads over his face, and Tony wants to kiss all of that smile, very badly.

 

And then, all of a sudden, Steve's murmur is coming from way closer, right by Tony's right ear. It's so close, in fact, that Tony can feel hot breath on his skin. "I... I _didn't_ know that, Tony. How could I have known that? Today, I thought maybe... But I didn't _know._ "

 

And there are a million possible answers, but instead of picking just one, Tony turns around and meets Steve's lips halfway. This time it's _definitely_ real. It's sweet and intimate and sensual and Tony could happily drown in Steve's kisses.

 

***

 

Later that night, their legs happily entangled together, Steve asks another question, even though Tony thought they were on the same page.

 

"Is this another one of your 'no-strings-attached' things, Tony?"

 

Well, everyone needs reassurance sometimes, Tony supposes. _He_ _himself_ often does, at any rate, even if he'd never admit it. Or is this something else? Did he read the situation wrong? Is Steve backing out? Or is he kindly giving _Tony_ a chance to back out if he wants? Or did they misunderstand each other, back in the elevator? True, not much was said, but...

 

Tony's bones are jelly, but he manages to prop himself up on an elbow and look down into Steve's face. He can't really read it, though.

 

"If that's what you want?" he says carefully, and Steve is silent. It doesn't look like a happy type of silence, though. "But," Tony goes on, swallowing nervously, "we could also try strings, if you like? I'm good with strings. I'm... I'm _happy_ with strings."

 

Steve pulls him down on top of him and claims his lips for a time. "Strings," he says afterwards, "sound really good."

**Author's Note:**

> The receptionist is all of us, really :)


End file.
